


details of a universe

by iPxndaz, spooky_mars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Matt Holt POV, Pidge | Katie Holt is a Good Friend, Rebel Matt Holt, Rolo is mentioned one (1) time, set in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPxndaz/pseuds/iPxndaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_mars/pseuds/spooky_mars
Summary: Each star represents one person, so they say; the belief has spread across galaxies, so it seems, like Matt has himself.





	details of a universe

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s hear it for all the amazing people that made this fic possible:  
> [Mac!](https://spinstersgrave.tumblr.com/) (aka macbook air)  
> [Lauren!](https://ipxndaz.tumblr.com/) (aka ipxndaz, the best apple product)  
> [Mars!](https://spookymars1217.tumblr.com/) (aka martha, the sweetest and smolest bean)

Matt sighed. It was at times like this he thought he understood how big space truly was. Staring out of his ship’s front window at the galaxy laid out in front of him, he felt tiny, but also… infinite. 

 

How long has he been out here? How long since Kerberos, or since he’d escaped the Galra? Since he was taken in by the rebels and given a reason to fight? It felt like forever, as if this was the only life he’d ever known. 

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Nyma said, jolting Matt out of his inner soliloquy. Well, she didn’t say the exact phrase, but whatever translator Matt was using decided it was close enough to the Earth phrase. 

 

“Just thinking about the universe,” he said, and tilted the controls down and around the galaxy. 

 

Nyma hummed, watching the planets and constellations pass by. “Well, what about the universe? There’s a lot to think about. You can’t have the full picture without all of the details.”

 

“It’s stupid.” There were switches he had to press, weren’t there? Mindless piloting to take his mind off things? 

 

But no, his mind decided he could multitask, and let his hands work their magic while his brain thought of what Nyma had said. Why couldn’t he be like this when he  _ didn’t  _ have rising anxiety over nothing?

 

_ You can’t have a full picture without all the details.  _ She might have had a point there. After all, Matt wouldn’t have been the whole person he was without the details his past had provided him. The galaxy they were flying around wouldn’t be what it was without all the people in it. 

 

_ “You’re  _ stupid,” Nyma muttered. She flicked her own switches and gave muted updates to the rest of the rebel fleet. 

 

Matt was inclined to agree with her, but only slightly, and not very seriously. Nyma threw him a glare over her shoulder, a sure sign that she thought Matt was being ignorant. And maybe he was, but Matt didn’t have the time nor the mindset to argue with her.

 

Matt huffed. “Listen. Sorry for being stupid. But I don’t think anyone’s personal shortcomings should get in the way of the mission. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt could see her stick her tongue out at him, but they said nothing more as they flew down into the shimmering galaxy before them. 

 

* * *

 

It was late, Matt knew. Rolo had gone to sleep a few hours ago, and now Matt was left with his own mind and Nyma typing away behind him.

 

“You should sleep.” 

 

Matt turned to her—was she aware that he thought the same thing about her? “Don’t think I could if I tried.”

 

“Is it about that thing from earlier? You were staring at that galaxy for, I don’t know, five binfies? You were deep in it.”

 

“It was nothing.”

 

“It had to be something,” Nyma countered. “People don’t just stare at galaxies for nothing.”

 

There was a pause, where neither of them said or did anything, both too occupied with their thoughts to finish writing their mission reports. They often went unread, Matt knew, as he’d sometimes stop writing them halfway through and never got confronted about it. 

 

Nyma rolled back in her office chair and came to a stop behind Matt. “My grandfather used to look at the stars from my home planet. He lived out on a ranch, see, and we could see every constellation those city people couldn’t. He told me that anyone who did what he did was looking for something.”

 

Nyma sat there staring at Matt, who didn’t know what to say or do. She sat there waiting for Matt to respond. Nothing. “He used to say that each star represents one living being in the whole galaxy.”

 

“Ha, my sister believes that somehow.” Matt reminisced about the nights he’d spent on the rooftop with her, staring at the stars that had captured their father’s heart. Even now, he could remember how it felt to climb through his bedroom window and the cool tiles underneath their bodies. “She always had that exact same belief. She and I would sneak to the top of our roof at night and stare at the stars. Or at least I would. She would try counting them.” 

 

“I mean, it’s not possible that there’s a star for every person,” Nyma said, the something soft that had crept into her voice gone. “There are too many people on too many planets and not enough stars for all of us. But… it’s nice to pretend, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

_ “I  _ don’t think that, personally.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“It’s late. We should both go to bed. No one’s going to read these  _ stupid _ reports, anyway.” She gestured violently at the sort of laptop computer she’d made out of her handheld device. 

 

“You go to sleep, I’m going to stay up for a bit.” Matt hated to do it, but he dismissed her, turning back to the control panel in front of him.

 

Nyma scoffed. “Matt, I get you’re the rebel leader, but you need to sleep too. Otherwise you’ll royally mess up because you’re sleep deprived.”

 

“I will cross that bridge when I get there.”

 

Nyma slammed her hands on her table, making her laptop and Matt jump. “Don’t you  _ get  _ it? We’re a team! We help each other through our mistakes, through our dumb problems that no one wants to acknowledge! Your problems affect your focus, which affects  _ my  _ safety on this rig! I don’t want to be on a ship whose pilot stops to stare at a pretty group of clouds in the middle of a battle. I don’t—”

 

She forcibly stopped her flow of words. Her chair creaked, and though Matt didn’t turn to look, he imagined her leaning back with one hand on her head, internally bemoaning his idiocracy. 

 

“You don’t  _ what,” _ he said, but there was no bite in his tired words. 

 

“I don’t see why you can’t take care of yourself the way you take care of everyone else,” Nyma said, sounding as tired as Matt felt. “How would your sister feel if she saw you working yourself to an early death? Of all the ways to die in a rebellion—” she chuckled to herself— “I think overworking yourself is a new one.”

 

Unconsciously, Matt fiddled with his thumbs, finding comfort in the smoothness of his fingernails. An odd thing to find comfort in, but it reminded him that despite all this, he was still human. 

 

“I want to make her proud,” he confessed, so soft that it must have been hard to hear, even in the silence of their docked rig. “I’m her brother, aren’t I? She looked up to me for so long, and now… she’s a paladin of Voltron, and there’s no way I can ever be on her level. She’s so strong and important and resilient, and I’m just, I don’t know, some freedom fighter that can’t be damned to find his way back home.”

 

There was a small squeak from the chair as Nyma got up. Matt didn’t know what he expected—for her to leave, or to smack him upside the head, but she laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “I think she’d be proud of you anyway.”

 

* * *

 

The comms were only supposed to be used for “emergencies.” Matt knew that. He also knew that he wanted, more than anything, to talk to his sister. 

 

The comms unit was a small and ugly thing, with orange lines along the sides and a tiny glowing rectangle telling him there was a signal. It mocked him. Three full bars, or its alien equivalent, and it  _ mocked  _ him. 

 

Pidge was just a bip away, if Matt gathered up enough courage to press the stupid button. Why was it that contacting his sister was a more harrowing experience than literally anything else he ever did? He was a rebel leader, for pete’s sake; he was  _ basically  _ a Star Wars character at this point. 

 

This was giving him  _ anxiety. _ Everything about this was giving him anxiety. 

 

Matt gave a small scream and pressed the stupid button. Anxiety could go die. 

 

The comm unit beeped for a second before it clicked. Static filled Matt’s tiny room; in it, he could hear Pidge say, “Matt?”

 

“Hey, Pidge,” he said. He laid down on his bed and put the unit on his stomach. It was hot. 

 

“Are you okay? What’s going on? I’ll be there in ten minutes—”

 

“No, it’s all okay. Everything’s fine.”

 

“What? Then… why—” As the static cleared, Matt could hear how tired she was, as if she had just woken up. 

 

“Just wanted to hear your voice.”

 

A static-filled silence, then Pidge said, “Oh.”

 

Matt chewed at his lip, a bad habit he’d had since he was young. It got cold up in Michigan during the winter, obviously, and he’d made his lips bleed more than once from peeling back the delicate, chapped skin. 

 

“I don’t think I’m doing so well, Pidgey,” he confessed, staring up at the ceiling. 

 

“Why? Is it tough dealing with the rebels?”

 

“No, Pidge. I—I miss you.”

 

Pidge snorted. “I miss you too, you big lump.”

 

“I miss Earth, too, I mean—going to the arcade and stargazing on the roof.”

 

Pidge hummed on the other end. “I never did get to finish counting all of the stars. Matt, I promise when this is over we can stargaze and go to the arcade every day that we can. Sound good?”

 

Matt smiled. He didn't know if the warmth in his chest was from his feelings of being content or because the comms unit was starting to overheat. He hoped it was the latter. “That sounds awesome. Thanks, Pidge.”

 

“Anytime, Matt. Now go to sleep, it's late.”

 

“Alright, sweet dreams. Miss you.”

 

The comms clicked off on Pidge’s end, but Matt let the unit fill his small space with static for a little while longer, until he felt like maybe he could sleep. 

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! This was written for the [Voltron Games](https://thevoltrongames.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Green Lion made it to the final round!! Let’s gooooo!!!!!


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